


Constellations

by Nekhoema



Series: Porcelain Dreams [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Songfic, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-18 13:39:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7317442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nekhoema/pseuds/Nekhoema
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A simple songfic centred around some moments regarding Tsukishima's and Yamaguchi's relationship from my series, Porcelain Dreams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Constellations

**Author's Note:**

> SONG: 'Photograph'  
> ARTIST: Ed Sheeran
> 
> This is a companion piece to Porcelain Dreams, but can be read as a standalone.

_Loving can hurt_  
_Loving can hurt sometimes_  
_But it's the only thing that I know_  
_When it gets hard_  
_You know it can get hard sometimes_  
_It is the only thing that makes us feel alive_

 

"Is there anything in particular you want to watch?"  
  
"Walking with Dinosaurs."  
  
"Tsukkkkiiii, we watched that documentary yesterday!"  
  
"So?"  
  
"Ugh, you're impossible. Can I pick something today then?"  
  
In the face of 18 year old Yamaguchi's puppy dog expression and metaphorically wagging tail, Tsukishima couldn't refuse. Rolling his eyes, he gave his assent with a heavy sigh, and Yamaguchi's face lit up like the Christmas lights currently strewn all over his house. Seriously, though. It was like Santa had thrown up in there. There was a tree blinking cheerily from the corner of his living room, tinsel and bulbs glowing with various colours adorning the ceiling, a giant fucking reindeer sticker pasted to his bedroom window, and everywhere you turned there was fake snow covering the carpet.  
  
But the true culprit wasn't Santa at all.  
  
Nope, it had been his mother and Akiteru, ambushing him when he'd returned home a few days ago from a shift at the cafe, too exhausted to argue with them as they roped him into helping them hang the decorations, cheerfully singing carols all the while, their voices so out of tune that Tsukishima had seriously considered just sticking his head in the toilet and flushing it so he wouldn't have to listen to them anymore.   
  
Now he had to live in the monstrosity of an abode his family had left him with, but Yamaguchi had liked it, at least, which had made it all just a bit easier for Tsukishima to deal with. When the freckled boy had first seen what had become of Tsukishima's living room, his grin had stretched so far across his face Tsukishima was actually worried it'd split in two, the emerald stone of his eyebrow piercing glinting in the soft afternoon sunlight streaming through the window.

He'd then spent the next half an hour giggling like a child as he frolicked (yes, that is the only word Tsukishima could use to describe the way he skipped around) in the fake snow, throwing it up in the air and just generally being a nuisance and making an even bigger mess which Tsukishima would have to clean up later. He didn't have it in him to put an end to Yamaguchi's fun, though, so instead he parked his butt on the couch and simply watched his friend roll around, a tiny smile on his face and a fondness blooming in his heart that would always remain unfamiliar to him, no matter how many times it had blossomed before.

Eventually, Yamaguchi had grown tired, and he'd collapsed on the sofa next to Tsukishima, yawning. They didn't say anything to each other, but they didn't need to, sitting in companionable silence, just enjoying each other's company.

Eventually, Yamaguchi's eyelids had begun drooping, his unusually long lashes brushing his cheeks.

Eventually, Yamaguchi had started tipping toward him, until he was leaning against Tsukishima's shoulder, his lips just barely brushing the blond's collarbone, making him shiver.

Eventually, Tsukishima had wrapped an arm hesitantly around Yamaguchi's waist, pulling him against his side and picking some of the fake snow out of the boy's fringe as he did so with his free hand.

Eventually, Tsukishima's grip on reality had begun to fade, and he'd decided as he struggled to stay awake and as Yamaguchi snuggled closer until he was curled against his chest, that he'd tell Yamaguchi soon.  
  
Yes.  
  
Eventually, he'd tell him.

And eventually, Tsukishima had fallen asleep too, his breaths harmonising with Yamaguchi's like the world's quietest duet. 

 

**_He'd had no idea he'd never get the chance._ **

 

"Ah! I found it!"

Yamaguchi's voice broke through his reverie, and Tsukishima came back to the present to see him triumphantly waving around a battered old copy of 'The Breakfast Club', grinning.

Tsukishima groaned.

He hated that movie so much.

 

**But now he'd give anything to watch it with him again.**

 

 _We keep this love in a photograph_  
_We made these memories for ourselves_  
_Where our eyes are never closing_  
_Hearts are never broken_  
_Time's forever frozen still_  
  
_So you can keep me_  
Inside the pocket  
_Of your ripped jeans_  
_Holdin' me closer_  
_'Til our eyes meet_  
_You won't ever be alone_  
_Wait for me to come home_  
  
  
  
**Why did it still hurt so much?**  
  
  
  
_Loving can heal_  
_Loving can mend your soul_  
_And it's the only thing that I know (know)_  
_I swear it will get easier_  
_Remember that with every piece of ya_  
_And it's the only thing we take with us when we die_

 

They were 19 when Yamaguchi had moved in.   
  
It had been a warm day, a little too hot for long sleeved shirts, but still too cool to wear a tank top, when Tsukishima had asked Yamaguchi if he'd like to live together. They'd spent their time strolling leisurely through the park, Yamaguchi's hair tied back in a neat ponytail, his new undercut on full display.   
  
Tsukishima had run his fingers over the fuzz when he'd first seen it, fascinated by how soft it was, before he'd realised just how close he'd been standing to the other boy. Yamaguchi's eyes were wide, his face slightly flushed, and Tsukishima felt his own cheeks heat up before he stepped back hastily, muttering a quick apology and averting his gaze.  
  
They hadn't spoken for a while after that, stewing in their own thoughts as they walked beside one another, until Yamaguchi had spotted an ice-cream van parked on the side of the road nearby and forgot his embarrassment in favour of taking Tsukishima's hand and dragging him toward the vehicle.   
  
Tsukishima had insisted that he didn't want anything.  
  
  
  
**Sometimes he swore he could still feel his fingers between his own.**  
  
  
  
10 minutes later he was halfway through a chocolate ice-cream cone at Yamaguchi's insistence, the boy himself next to him, eagerly devouring his own sugary treat happily and chatting animatedly about something in between licks. Tsukishima couldn't remember what he'd been talking about. He hadn't really been listening, instead focusing more on the way Yamaguchi's tongue traced erotically across the tip of his ice-cream.  
  
  
  
**He wished he'd paid more attention.**  
  
  
  
"You've got ice-cream on your nose."  
  
Yamaguchi blushed furiously at Tsukishima's words, preparing to wipe it off, but Tsukishima beat him to it. He reached over and swiped it away with a single digit before popping the finger in his mouth, sucking it.  
  
He'd never seen Yamaguchi go as red as he did that afternoon, his freckles all but hidden by the brightness of his flesh.

 

 _ **Sometimes he just wanted to trace constellations on his skin, but instead he could only trace constellations in the stars.**_  
  
  
  
And when the sun was beating down on them from above, Yamaguchi's cheeks were stained crimson with emotion, the wind whistled through the trees, ruffling their hair, and the songs of insects and birds filled the air, Tsukishima knew it was time.  
  
  
  
"Will you move in with me?" _  
_

  
  
_We keep this love in this photograph_  
_We made these memories for ourselves_  
_Where our eyes are never closing_  
_Our hearts were never broken  
__Time's forever frozen still_

  _So you can keep me_  
_Inside the pocket_  
_Of your ripped jeans_  
_Holdin' me closer_  
_Til our eyes meet  
__You won't ever be alone_

  
  
  
**Why did he still cry?**  
  
  
  
_And if you hurt me_  
_That's OK, baby, only words bleed_  
_Inside these pages you just hold me_  
_And I won't ever let you go_  
  
  
  
He was almost but not quite 20 when he got the news.  
  
Yamaguchi was with him when he got the phone call, his mother's ID flashing across the screen. He'd rolled his eyes at Yamaguchi as he swiped the 'Answer' button with his thumb, and the other boy had sniggered, no doubt thinking Tsukishima was about to be chewed out for something.  
  
Neither of them were expecting Tsukishima to be greeted with the sound of his mother's heartbroken sobbing, and Tsukishima froze.  
  
"Mum? What's wrong?!"  
  
When his mother finally calmed down enough to explain what had happened, Tsukishima's entire world collapsed.  
  
He couldn't breathe.  
  
He couldn't speak.  
  
He couldn't think.  
  
He couldn't _believe._  
  
Yamaguchi had taken the phone from his hands, addressing Tsukishima's mother for him and coaxing the entire story from her, his gentle tone relaxing her in a way Tsukishima knew he himself never could, his voice and demeanour radiating a calmness Tsukishima had never seen on him before.   
  
When he'd finally hung up, Yamaguchi had turned to face him, sorrow burning in his eyes as he said two words.  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
Tsukishima couldn't reply.   
  
He felt sick.  
  
He still couldn't breathe.  
  
Vaguely, he could hear Yamaguchi saying his name, but nothing else registered in his numb mind.  
  
Nothing else.   
  
Except for the fact that Akiteru was dead.  
  
Tsukishima threw up, the contents of his stomach making themselves a new home on the carpet as he shuddered pathetically with convulsions. Yamaguchi leaped into action, pulling his relatively long hair up and out of the way, rubbing his back comfortingly, murmuring softly to him.  
  
When Tsukishima had finished being sick, Yamaguchi bundled him into the shower, stripping them both of their clothes and holding him silently as he cried, the sound of the water spraying above their heads loud enough to disguise even the most violent of his sobs.  
  
  
  
_Wait for me to come home_  
_Wait for me to come home_  
_Wait for me to come home_  
_Wait for me to come home_  


 

He was almost but not quite 20 when Yamaguchi kissed him for the first time.  
  
  
  
_Oh, you can fit me_  
_Inside the necklace you got when you were 16_  
_Next to your heartbeat_  
_Where I should be_  
_Keep it deep within your soul_  
  
  
  
  
**He just wants him back.**  
  
  
  
  
_And if you hurt me_  
_Well, that's OK, baby, only words bleed_  
_Inside these pages you just hold me_  
_And I won't ever let you go_  
  
  
  
He was 20 when Yamaguchi confessed to him.

It had been a long, tiring day for both of them. Tsukishima had finally gotten back from working the late shift, barely remembering to lock the door behind him before he made a beeline for his room, collapsing onto the bed and letting loose a groan of contentment as his face hit the pillow. 

He had just started to drift off when he heard the front door slam shut, jerking him from the verge of unconsciousness so suddenly he wondered for a moment if he'd been hit.

When Yamaguchi didn't immediately come in to see him, a wave of concern swept over him, and he clambered slowly off the mattress, casting a regretful glance over his shoulder at the blankets as he stepped into the hallway to find Yamaguchi.

He did find him eventually, scrunched into a little ball in a corner, his forehead smushed into his knees. He didn't look up when Tsukishima joined him on the floor, but when the blond threw an arm over his shoulders to pull him close, Yamaguchi didn't protest.

After a while Tsukishima managed to encourage Yamaguchi to the bed, and they curled up together, legs intertwined, arms wrapped securely around each other.   


 

 **Holding each other together.**  
  


 

Quite a few hours had passed before Yamaguchi inhaled deeply, obviously about to speak. 

Tsukishima waited patiently, not daring to say something in case Yamaguchi changed his mind.  


 

_**He hadn't been ready.** _

 

"Tsukki, I love you."

 

Tsukishima froze. His heart began to beat rapidly in his chest and his palms felt cold and clammy. Against his side, Yamaguchi was still. He didn't move at all, apart from the steady rise and fall of his breathing. And Tsukishima couldn't think of a single thing to say, had no way to respond to the confession that had just spouted from his friend's lips.  


 

 **So he didn't say anything at all.**  
  


 

Tsukishima was a coward. 

Instead of replying to Yamaguchi, he took the easy way out.

He pretended to be asleep.

He heard Yamaguchi whisper his name self-consciously, confusion and slight fear evident in his tone, before Tsukishima felt him turn slightly to see his face.

Tsukishima kept up the act until Yamaguchi stopped staring, instead stiffly returning to his original position, a baffling mixture of frustration and relief radiating off him strongly enough it was almost palpable.

Ironically enough, Tsukishima didn't sleep that night.

The next morning, Yamaguchi climbed drowsily out of bed before him, as usual. He'd had an early start that day, so he'd bolted down his chosen bowl of cereal before heading to the shower to wash hastily, as usual. He dressed in his usual style of a flannel shirt and skinny jeans, throwing his hair up in its usual tight ponytail, and he sprayed on his usual cologne, an intoxicating aroma of chocolate and vanilla.

He'd pecked Tsukishima on the lips while the latter feigned sleep again before leaving, closing the door softly behind him.

As usual.

Yes, everything had been the same as usual.

Except that would be the last time Tsukishima would ever see his best friend.  


 

_**He wished he'd never left.  
** _

 

  
_When I'm away_  
_I will remember how you kissed me_  
_Under the lamppost_  
_Back on 6th street_  
_Hearing you whisper through the phone_  


  
  
"Wait for me to come home, okay Tsukki?"  
  
  
  
  
_Wait for me to come home._  
  
  
  
  
**He'd had no idea he'd be waiting forever.**  
  
  
  
  
He was 20 when he attended Yamaguchi's funeral.  


 

_**And he was 20 when he told a cold slab of stone that yes, he loved him too.** _

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think, either in the comments below or on Twitter @Nekhoema_


End file.
